[Ver1:]
Hey you know me bitch nigga I'm all of that
Hit your broad with bitch then call her back
Relax lil' cat let the big dog attack
Thought it was over for me hommie did you fall for that?
U-turn big arrest no cardiac
Get your hand out of my pocket
What with all of that?
Tell the sheriff he can get these fucking charges back
A little money still gotta thank God for that
Regardless, big bank can't fold it up
Ain't another nigga flowing who a colder bruh
Quarter-mil for the show really though what's up?
Louis duffel-bag say "load it up"
Get into the hotel better know what's up
With them niggas out there get the hold it off
We never had a problem getting hoes to fuck
Suck dick, lick, spit til the show is up
I let this nut get all over her
Another thick bitch kissing all over her
Bust the pussy wide open can't close it up
Make it bounce that shit
When you found that bitch
She was laid on the ground
Patted down, six chicks
For the drab bag of money
Trying to count that shit
Never would you find me around that bitch
If she got them lips wrapped around that dick
All the niggas wanna make love fuck that
I Bing, Bang, pound, beat down that clit
Sick with it, like E-40 and them
This K-i-n-g aka, Big Bank, aka Shawty the Pimp
Ay, aka Shawty the Pimp
Big Bank, aka Shaw the Pimp.
[Hook:]
I get money, I can't help it
You can't stop it, you gotta accept it
You can't knock it, you gotta respect it
This is who I am nigga, I can't help it
I can't help it
(In the ghetto in a drop Rolls Royce)
(They say "keep it one hundred")
(I ain't got no choice)
I can't help it
(Yeah, her all-way big tank)
(I'm so trill and you ain't)
("Cut it down" Bitch I can't)
I can't help it
(Ay, see how I do it? I'm so hood)
("Cut it off, go Hollywood")
(Bitch I would if I could)
I can't help it
(Ay, the city wouldn't be shit without me)
(Fifteen-million dollar houses)
(Still can't get that trap up out me)
I can't help it.
[Ver2:]
I'm a hustler all they down to the boom
Terrorists everyday rhyme with that bomb
Stay on the day from the light to the moon
I ain't gonna server you nothing under a song
No fucking favors don't ask for no loan
Shop with your dogs then trynna get on
Cover my spot don't need cover my phone
Nigga you ain't trynna shop, leave me alone
Grinding for days I haven't been home
Don't plan on going on til it's all gone
Mainly strong whatever you want
"Gotta get right" Well fuck it what's wrong?
Shots of Patron whole lot of storm
800's on but you know what I'm on
Your bitch wanna fuck now she know that I'm on
On motherfucker I just want some don't
Play with me nigga, I got that tone
Need no help I can handle my own
I tear on your sqaud but I ain't from the Bronx
One in the back, still play with that drum
Just no that I don't play the radio home
No radio-play ever saw that I'm on
Case you ain't know I'm Rocko the Don
Zone folk Hamilton, low on fun
Gucci my hat, Gucci my drawers
Gucci on my ass-cheek cover my balls
Gucci my pant, Gucci my shirt
Gucci bookbag while I keep on that twerk
Gucci bandanna on top of my shirt
Gucci boots on, gotta travel in the dirt
She around me everywhere I go
G Code, G Code that's all I know.
[Hook]
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